


Final Moments

by Iocane



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character death aftermath, M/M, Sometime in the future, Takes place after Rodney dies, Tissue Warning, mostly just excessive sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years into the future, Rodney suffers a fatal accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: The cool-beyond-words Oran, Marie-France and Susan who dragged this story kicking and screaming into a better place. Any remaining errors are entirely mine.
> 
> ((Another import of my old Stargate stuff. This was written while the series was still going, probably around season 2-3, so there will be inconsistencies.))

 

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They all knew that of the two of them, John would be first. John nearly had been first twice. Carson and the rest of the medical team had fixed him, and he'd gotten a few more years.  
  
It wasn't even some heroic off-world mission, and in a way John was glad of that. Rodney died at home, in Atlantis. Rodney had been exploring the city, which he still did alone, sometimes, in spite of protocol or John's pleading. Even after so long there were still parts of the city that hadn't fully been explored, plenty of tech that hadn't been investigated. He knew Rodney was careful but the city was *old* and things could still, years after they had arrived, go horribly wrong.  
  
When it happened, John was out on one of the jumpers testing some new modifications Radek had made which made it more maneuverable and faster. When John got the call, he knew something was very wrong. Radek's normally subtle accent was nearly indecipherable. "You should come home, Colonel," he said. John had *really* given the jumper a workout then, getting back to the city in record time. Elizabeth met him in the bay, walking with him to the infirmary.  
  
"He was trying to ... well, Radek hasn't figured it out yet, and you know how Rodney doesn't talk to anyone while he's doing this, but it didn't go well." After ten years in this life, they had learned it was better not to sugar-coat things. Elizabeth stopped him at the infirmary doors. "I don't want you going in unprepared, John – he's very badly burned. Carson's doing what he can but ..." She didn't finish, but by now didn't need to. She stepped aside, letting John into the chaos of the infirmary, following close behind him.  
  
Carson was barking orders and John's gut wrenched at the smell of charred flesh hanging in the air. Between the rapidly moving bodies he could see Rodney, unconscious but still clearly in pain, the unburned half of his face twisted with it. He knew, by what Carson was telling the others, that they were killing the nerve endings all over Rodney's body and trying to keep him from feeling he was still being burned alive. Sadly, Rodney was not the first to die by fire in Atlantis. John had witnessed enough scenes like this to know what they were doing to try and save him and that, in all likelihood, they would fail. If he were at all aware, Rodney knew it as well.  
  
John tried to approach, feeling numb enough for both of them. A nurse gently guided him away. He could hear her saying something but his eyes were fixed on Rodney. He could sense both Teyla and Ronon close by. Neither touched the colonel but he knew from experience that they would keep him away from Rodney if he tried to get close again. They'd keep him away for as long as they needed to, to let Carson and the others do their jobs. Once, John had been able to cope with an injured Rodney. As they both got older, however, it had become more difficult.  
  
After far too long things calmed down and John was allowed close. More wires and tubes were stuck in Rodney than John had ever seen in the other man. From what he could see, Rodney's right arm had taken the worst of it. The hand under his bandages was far, far smaller than it should have been. John sat and took the scientist's left hand in his, glad the burns there were minor, limited to a stark white square of gauze on the back of his hand reaching up his forearm.  
  
There were quite a few bandages on the right side of the scientist's face, and John caressed the left side, fighting his tears. Dimly, he heard a murmur behind him but didn't register it as a voice.  
  
Carson touched John's shoulder, getting his attention. "John?" The doctor's accent, like Radek's, was thickened by the circumstances. The doctor had been talking but he realized John probably hadn't been aware.  
  
"I ... yeah, sorry Carson." He forced himself to look up, away from Rodney, fixing his eyes on the doctor's haggard face.  
  
Carson Beckett wasn't one to give up easily, but he knew sometimes fighting the good fight meant allowing for a dignified death. In the last ten years, he'd learned the hard lesson that sometimes it was better to stop the fight before the end and give people time to say goodbye. "This is the part where I'm supposed to say 'There's still a chance he might pull through,' but I sincerely doubt it." John could hear the ache of failure in Carson's voice and wished he could reassure his friend. "Too much was damaged. We've done what we can to make him comfortable, but right now I don't know if he'll even wake up."  
  
Both men turned at the quiet snort from the bed, made with what little strength Rodney had left. One pain-filled but otherwise clear eye blinked, moving between the two men for a moment before fixing on John. "And miss everyone at last telling me how much they value me and all my brilliance?" There was a fatigue there John had never heard from Rodney, as though he'd been awake for years. John could feel Rodney's fingers move, curling around his hand, obviously feeling the contact.  
  
"You know we do, love." John turned away from Carson, squeezing Rodney's hand tight. His other hand caressed an unburned patch of the scientist's short graying hair. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him now, knowing once Rodney was gone he'd likely be a wreck. John didn't want to spend his final minutes with Rodney too overcome with his own grief to communicate. He heard Carson slip away, leaving the pair alone. "How much did you hear?" John asked, knowing Rodney would want to know the full extent. Rodney always wanted to know about everything, even the unpleasant things.  
  
"Enough. I'm dead; I just haven't stopped moving yet." The words came slowly as if Rodney were struggling for each one. "Love you, John," he said, his single eye glittering, worried that those three words might be his last and wanting what words and time he had left to mean everything they could. His lips, his eye, and his fingers were the only parts of Rodney that moved at all. John didn't let him think of how much his normally mobile and active lover's stillness disturbed him.  
  
"Love you too, Rodney," John said around a lump in his throat. At least he had been able to say it. They had said it that morning but one of John's fears, beyond dying itself, had always been that he wouldn't be able to say it before the end. "I love you so much," he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to Rodney's temple.  
  
"I'm dying, John." Rodney's voice rasped, as if even the inside of his throat were singed. "If you're going to kiss me, make it count," he grumped. Rodney McKay was the only person John knew who could grump after having been electrically flayed alive. He did as Rodney asked, brushing a gentle, loving kiss against those pliant, much-loved lips. Rodney did his best to return the kiss, lips working softly against John's. When John sat up, Rodney's unbandaged eye shone just a little brighter; John could see the bulge of a tear that soon escaped and he caught it with his thumb.  
  
Thanks to their lifestyle, certain decisions had been made and communicated long ago. Rodney didn't need to tell John not to send his body back to Earth. He could save the energy for something else, even if it was just a few more seconds of life with John. By now they had a small cemetery on the Mainland for whose who called Atlantis home. John himself planned to be buried beside Rodney -- wherever his lover had wanted to go. They shared a silent exchange now, speaking with their eyes as they often did. When Rodney's stone was erected, John's name would be on it.  
  
"Hair," Rodney said softly, a silent plea in his eye. John was baffled for just a moment before smiling at his love. Carefully, he lifted Rodney's hand, first nuzzling his palm, knowing how Rodney always loved to caress his stubble. Then he turned his head and lowered it, feeling Rodney's fingers spread themselves into his always-wild steel grey locks. For all that Rodney teased him about it, the one time John had actually gotten his hair cut nice and short, Rodney hadn't spoken to him for a week. A quiet rumble of pleasure rose from Rodney's chest and John's resolve almost cracked at that so-familiar sound, knowing he'd never hear it again. "Love your hair," Rodney murmured. Only when Rodney's gently massaging fingers went slack did John carefully lower Rodney's arm. John peppered little kisses on Rodney's hand, nuzzling his palm once more before setting the hand down again, curling the fingers once again around his own as his free hand moved back to Rodney's face, caressing his cheek for a moment. Rodney summoned enough strength to turn into the hand and John cupped his face, trying to ignore how unusually cold Rodney was.  
  
"Rodney?" Carson interrupted the intimate moment, hating that it could be their last. But he also knew that in spite of Rodney's best efforts, he had other friends in the city, and they would want to say goodbye if the scientist would let them.  
  
"Go on, Carson, send in the clowns." Rodney's grip on John's hand was weak, but it was enough and John wasn't going anywhere. No one protested his presence. John's only real concession to the others was to hold Rodney's hand in both of his and stop playing with the other man's hair, not wanting the touch to distract him too much. Carson allowed them in one at a time, many openly weeping, including a few of the military contingent. Rodney might have been an egotistical, socially awkward man, but he had a way of lodging himself pretty deep in a person's heart and his stubbornness kept him there.  
  
John listened and detached himself a little, watching from outside, as if it wasn't his lover dying. This way he could just smile sadly and not weep as Rodney said goodbye to their friends. Of course, Rodney also left some last minute orders. He told Radek about his ongoing projects, where the notes were. He said similar things to the others in his team, and they knew that his almost cold instructions and still biting sarcasm were his way of saying 'I care.' Elizabeth was told where Rodney thought there might be a few more ZedPMs. Carson was reminded 'You have the gene, deal with it. Use it.' Lorne was ordered to retire already and make an honest man out of his botanist. Rodney managed a small smile when Teyla brought a small step stool so she could touch foreheads with him one last time without Rodney having to move at all.  
  
Ronon arrived with a small, carved wood dagger. They'd seen a few of them - Ronon made them for those he considered warriors, as a way of telling the spirits what the person had been in life. The last one John had seen had been buried with Laura Cadman two years previously. Rodney's response of 'Carson's the witch doctor, not you.' made the Satedan smile faintly and nod, departing in silence. The gesture almost made John himself weep, despite his detachment at the moment. He knew Rodney was a lot stronger, in so many ways, than others gave him credit for even after so long. He was glad Ronon had seen it, too.  
  
Once upon a time John might have scolded Rodney for his continued sarcasm and general Rodney-ness but he was seeing the unspoken - Rodney McKay was still Rodney McKay and he was going to carry on being the same Rodney McKay they all knew and loved until the very end. Anything else, John was sure Rodney felt, would diminish their opinion of him, and insult them all. They all understood it, and that he summoned the energy to be sarcastic to them at the end made it all the more cherished.  
  
It seemed to John that the entire city said goodbye, though he knew it couldn't possibly have been the whole population. More than he would have expected, though. Finally, they were again alone, and John selfishly prayed they stayed that way until the end.  
  
Once it was over, Rodney seemed to shrink, paling even further and John worried that it had been too much. Only the steady beeping of the monitor behind Rodney's bed kept John from giving into his own anguish. Rodney had passed out, or simply fallen asleep, but John took small comfort in the fact that his face, what part of it wasn't covered in stark white, looked at peace. Each breath that exited his body left his chest unnaturally still and deflated until his lungs summoned up the strength to draw in another.  
  
Rodney's eye fluttered open after a while, turning to John who was still beside him, clutching Rodney's hand, stroking his hair. "Don't die with me, John," Rodney said softly, a familiar stubbornness in his flashing eye. This was *his* Rodney, now. The one who would occasionally admit how truly terrified he was of everything, with none of his usual attitude attached. The one who let himself be held when nightmares woke them both; and who held John in return. The one who wasn't afraid to take a swing at John when he'd done something exceptionally stupid. "I'll come back and kick your ass if you die with me," he promised and John knew Rodney would find a way to do that.  
  
John just nodded, part of him feeling like he was dead already, not seeing how he could go on without Rodney. In the back of his mind he knew he would, but right now he couldn't see how he would get through the next few days – let alone the rest of his life – without Rodney at his side. "I was supposed to protect you," he finally murmured, a tear sliding down his cheek. It was something they had occasionally discussed, especially after watching 'Independence Day.' Scientist and Protector. Rodney's duty was to think, not fight; brains, not brawn. John was his protector, his guardian against anything that could bring him harm, all the things that Rodney wouldn't know or care about. John sometimes felt his whole purpose in life was – happily – to keep Rodney safe, comfortable and happy. Usually he could manage one or two of the three at a time, sometimes all three. Now, given the pain he could read like a book on his lover's features, John felt he had failed at everything. The never-quite tight grip on his hand slackened just a bit. It didn't loosen entirely but John knew these were the last few moments.  
  
"Protect the kids, instead," Rodney said quietly and John could hear the life fading from his beloved. There were about a dozen children on Atlantis now, some born, a very few adopted from other worlds. Rodney gave them all a wide berth but John knew he was immensely glad of their presence. Children meant life. Children in Atlantis meant they were there to stay.  
  
"I will, love." John felt another tear slide down his cheek as the already weak grip on his fingers lessened even further. Rodney's eye closed, and his breath grew more and more shallow, each one a small victory in a losing battle. The steady beating of Rodney's heart gradually slowed and stopped. John sat for a few moments, holding Rodney's hand in both of his until the last of his heat finally bled away. When his lover's fingers grew cold, John leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Rodney's still frame, resting his head on his chest and weeping quietly, tears soaking into the sheet and bandages. Carson came in only long enough to disconnect the machines and gently cover Rodney's face, leaving the two alone again, before going to tell the others.  
  
*  
**  
*  
  
"Colonel?" Radek's accent was still thick with emotion in the evening after Rodney's morning funeral. Earlier that day, most of those in attendance - which was nearly the entire population of the city - had returned from the Mainland, leaving Rodney's body in the cemetery. While the others had left not long after the service, John was only now returning to the city as the sun set. Elizabeth had made sure there had been enough puddle jumpers on the trip over to allow John time alone on the trip back.  
  
He was in full military dress and the pain of loss and his own inner determination to do as Rodney had demanded, not die with his lover, were both etched on his face. Once he had John's attention, the Czech silently handed over a plain white envelope. John's name - no rank, just 'John' in Rodney's handwriting.  
  
John wasn't entirely surprised at the existence of such a letter. Every now and then Elizabeth had been entrusted with a similar letter for Rodney. Before the funeral, he'd retrieved his latest from her and put it in the coffin with Rodney along with ten years of previous letters. There were things in them that were meant for Rodney alone, alive or dead. He knew most of the others, even the ones who didn't go off world, had some kind of 'when I'm dead do this ...' request made of someone else. With the Wraith still around, it made sense.  
  
Holding the letter, feeling twenty years older than he had a week ago, John returned to their quarters. The ancient tech and gadgets and papers that usually cluttered every available surface were long gone, taken by Zelenka and the others to continue Rodney's work as soon as possible -- their own way of mourning and remembering.  
  
Without Rodney's at-home projects, their quarters felt barren. All their pictures and treasures were still decorating the walls and shelves, but Rodney's presence was gone.  
  
In the days before the funeral, John had been torn about removing all of the little reminders of his lover. In the end, he had decided to keep them as they were; as they had been when Rodney was alive.  
  
Ten years of carefully chosen photographs sprawled across one wall in an ever-growing mosaic of life. John would continue what Rodney had begun so long ago. The same wall had once housed Rodney's many diplomas and accolades. They had long ago taken residence in a box in the closet marked 'misc. papers.'  
  
The treasures that had come to mean so much to Rodney in the last ten years were arranged on a hand-made wooden shelf – a gift from Halling. The plaque engraved 'Most Likely to Talk A Wraith to Death'; an Athosian scarf from the mother of a child Rodney had saved with his own epi-pen; the baseball cards of each of them that someone had done years ago – everyone on Atlantis at the time had gotten one.  
  
Rodney had insisted on displaying some of John's awards as well, including his certificate of promotion to full Colonel, and a plaque similar to Rodney's reading 'Most Sentient Hair.'  
  
For a while, John's Mensa card had been displayed on that shelf, but had been replaced long ago by a crude clay rendering of a Stargate made by one of the Atlantean children and given to Rodney as a birthday gift.  
  
A small metal box held a pair of simple gold bands that Rodney had made himself before the pair decided such trappings weren't for them. Above the shelf hung a hand-drawn, oversized card. The drawing had been done by Andrew Parrish and consisted of John and Rodney, drawn as if they were Donkey and Shrek. It was a third anniversary card – their last before coming out – and was signed by everyone who had known about the relationship at the time. Several signatures had surprised the hell out of the pair, including Stephen Caldwell's.  
  
Rodney's personal laptop still sat on his desk, the only piece of his equipment that remained. John hadn't touched it since his lover had died. John brushed his fingers against hand carved chess pieces on a small table in the corner. It would forever be Rodney's move in their unfinished game.  
  
John finally sat on their bed, holding the letter gingerly in his hands, not wanting it – or what it meant – to be real.  
  
John had to smile when he opened the letter – the top flap of the tri-folded letter had, simply 'He's dead, Jim,' scrawled on it and John could hear Rodney saying it, as if his lover were sitting beside him. In a strange way, John was glad Rodney had gone first; he would not have wanted to be the cause of this much pain for his scientist. Rodney would have survived – Rodney had expected from the start to die old and without John at his side – but the pain right now was almost enough to tear John apart and Rodney's words were the only thing keeping him from flying a jumper into the sun. Having kept himself dry-eyed at the wake and funeral service, John gave in to his tears for the second time since Rodney's death.  
  
Some while later, he dried his eyes and set about reading the letter. It was handwritten, and John could almost see the pauses in his writing. If Rodney was anything like him, it sometimes took a few days to write the whole thing; there would be subtle changes in the writing every time he had come back to it. It was dated about four months before Rodney's death.  
  
John's fingers ghosted over the words as he read, as if he could pick up some final trace of Rodney. He was disappointed to discover that the letter itself smelled of high quality old fashioned ink and paper, and not Rodney.  
  
_Dear Sheppard,_  
  
Because this sure as hell isn't a 'Dear John,' letter. And if that isn't enough of a cliché - If you're reading this, I'm dead. I left a background program running on every laptop I got my hands on. Once the official log of the dead had my name on it, Radek got a little beepy from me, with directions on where to find this letter. Pretty clever, eh? I know I could have just given it to him, or Carson or anyone else but then I wouldn't have been able to use that rather brilliant program of mine. Plus, you know how I am about awkward moments.  
  
It's kind of shocking, you reading this. Needless to say I was aware of the possibility that I'd go first, but there's awareness and there's believing it may actually happen. I guess this means you'll stop giving Elizabeth a new letter for me every few months. I've been doing the same thing, ten letters so far, not giving them to Elizabeth, though, of course. If you're curious, I've still got the old ones tucked away. The beepy Radek has also asks a question only you can answer. It'll tell you where the others are, if you want to know.  
  
Ten years, John. A hell of a lot more than I ever thought I deserved, or would ever get. I just hope I got to say goodbye. I hope to god I didn't get killed by something stupid, either. Kids. Was I saving kids? I hate the little brats but there are worse ways to be remembered than saving a pack of kids from certain doom. I hope there'll be a lot of them, now. Atlantis needs more kids. Especially now that they won't be bugging me. Make sure there are a lot of kids, John. I think Atlantis misses having little ones running around. She's a city, not a space station. The more kids we have here, the less likely Earth is to come in and drag us back there. This is home now. The more children there are the more of a home it is. If you're lucky, one of them will be as smart as me.  
  
In case I never got to say it at the end, and even if I did, no harm in saying it now - I love you, John. More than I ever thought I could. And I know you loved me too, so don't beat yourself up if you didn't get to say it. If you ever get back to Earth -- you yourself, no one else gets to do this, John -- take something of mine, anything, really, and put it in the family crypt. Earth isn't home anymore, but I'm still a McKay.  
  
You didn't fail, John. You were my protector, my guardian, my everything, for ten years. I died, it was time, end of story. If it wasn't whatever it was, it would have been something else. The happiest times of my life were with you, and I wouldn't trade them, or this life, for anything.  
  
I'm jealous even as I write this, but find someone else. Not right away, but when you're ready you should have someone else to love, to look after, and take care of. I know no one will ever compare to me, but you've got too much love not to share it with someone. Name a kid after me.  
  
I love you, John, and I'll miss you, and I know you'll miss me. I know in a way I'm not really dead, so don't let me die all the way. Not that my brilliance is going to stop having its effects any time soon, but don't let me be forgotten. Not where it counts; In Pegasus Galaxy; In Atlantis.  
Goodbye,  
  
Rodney

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Btw those baseball cards that were mentioned, I did actually make a (digital) set, but that was many moons and four computers ago, sadly.


End file.
